


Teaching Quentin to Bake

by rizcriz



Series: tumblr is dying time to get compiling [6]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 07:11:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16949379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizcriz/pseuds/rizcriz
Summary: In which Eliot teaches Quentin to Bake.





	Teaching Quentin to Bake

“What the fuck,” A familiar voice demands from behind Quentin, “Happened in here?”

Quentin jumps up, patting his hands on the back of his jeans, flinching as he realizes the flours going to look like somebodies been grabbing his ass, and smiles sheepishly at Eliot. “Hey … buddy …” He drawls. “Funny running in - into you … here. In the kitchen.” He makes a stuttering, sweeping gesture with his hands, motioning at the mess he’s made of the kitchen, “So funny.”

Eliot watches him for a few seconds, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, before he clicks his tongue with a roll of his eyes, “Just once,” He says, as he rolls up his sleeves and makes his way into the kitchen, “Can you not look so pathetic?” Quentin frowns, but Eliot’s already waving his hands in an intricate cast, and the kitchen’s cleaning itself. “What are you even  _doing_?”

“I was trying to make cookies.”

One eyebrow goes up as Eliot crosses his arms. “Cookies.”

“Y - Yeah. It’s just, Josh -,”

“Fucks sake,” Eliot rolls his eyes, “Do you even know how to bake, Q?”

Quentin looks around the now clean kitchen guiltily, “Well, I mean. I - I turned the stove on.” He attempts a smile. “I didn’t put too much thought into it.”

Eliot stares at him, thoughtful, for a few long moments before sighing, deep and quick, and holding his hand out. “Give me an apron, you sad sack.”

“Eliot, you don’t have to -,”

“Oh trust me,” Eliot responds, “I do. Because if I don’t, I’ll come back in here an hour, to find you’ve set fire to the entire cottage. And if I drink as much as I’d like to, I’ll be more flammable than the cottage. So, teaching Quentin to bake? Somehow,” He pauses, reaching forward and untying the apron from around Quentin’s waist, “At the top of my list.”

The next half hour consists of Eliot taking baking  _Very Seriously,_  while Quentin maybe, kind of, definitely sabotages, because the little look of confusion and irritation that flits across Eliot’s face each time is too fun to pass up.

And then, Eliot’s pushing him up against the counter after they put the cookies in the oven, and narrowing his eyes down at him. “ …Can I help you?”

Eliot rolls his eyes, “No,” He murmurs, but he’s reaching past him, to something on the counter and Quentin realizes too late - when a heaping handful of flour is poured overtop his head, and Eliot’s standing there, smirking at him like he’s won some unspoken battle.

Which of course, means war.

They dart around the kitchen, chasing after each other with handfuls of flour until Eliot runs past the door, darting out of the way, just as Quentin releases the flour he’s holding. In a perfect world, the flour would have just floated off into the air to join the dust settling in on everything else in the cottage.

But, no, because this is Quentin’s life, Margo happens to be walking through the door just as the flour goes flying through the air, and coats her entire face. She stands there for a moment, open mouthed and shocked, until she opens her eyes, points at the two of them, yells, “ _Would you two just bang already_!?” And storms off to presumably clean off her face.

Quentin and Eliot stare after her for a moment, before looking at each other and bursting out into laughter.


End file.
